‘Which time?’ said Alf.
‘Last Christmas. When it was pouring with rain.’
‘I remember,’ mumbled Alf.
‘What did Masa do?’
‘Nearly drove me round the bend!’ said Alf. ‘He kept prattling on about not getting any trifle at the children’s lunch.’
‘And why did he miss out on trifle?’
‘Because. He left the lunch to wait with me until my old man calmed down.’ Alf took a deep breath and blew his cheeks out. ‘All right,’ he said after a few seconds. ‘Let’s get him out.’ He reached into his back pocket and fished out a gold mask with peacock feathers sticking out of one side.
‘What the heck is that?’ asked Charlie.
‘My disguise,’ said Alf, slipping the mask over his face and adjusting the strap. ‘I found it at the last fancy dress ball up at the town hall.’
‘You’ll stand out like a pig in a beauty pageant,’ said Charlie. ‘Get it off.’
Alf grumbled, but pulled off the ridiculous mask and stashed it behind the tamarind tree. ‘D’you really think this’ll work?’
‘Course it will,’ said Charlie. But there was more than a tiny doubt in his mind. After all, there were machine guns involved – if things went wrong, they could go really wrong.
‘And you reckon the Canyon is the best way in?’
‘Yep,’ said Charlie. The Canyon was a shallow ditch that ran behind one of the divers’ boarding houses and down towards the beach. Before the barbed wire fence went over the top, the Stingrays used to muck around in it, pretending they were Anzacs in a trench at Gallipoli as they lobbed jam-tin hand grenades at passers-by. At one time the Canyon must have been a waterway of some sort, but now it was so choked with weeds that unless you were looking for it, you probably wouldn’t realise it was there at all. Which was exactly what Charlie was relying on.
A flying fox flapped its wings in the tree above them, making Charlie jump. ‘Righto,’ he said. ‘Forward march.’
The two of them stole down Milman Street, darting between the shadows of trees. They reached the barbed wire at the edge of Yokohama just as a pair of headlights appeared and started rumbling towards them.
‘Get down!’ Charlie hissed.
They pressed themselves flat on the ground beneath the wongai tree where they had said goodbye to Masa earlier, as a small army truck pulled up to the Yokohama gate. Ern was nowhere to be seen, but Jim was still on guard, squinting into the truck’s headlights as the vehicle ground to a stop in front of him.
‘Good evening, Jim,’ called the driver.
‘Is it?’ said Jim, trudging round to the driver’s side.
‘I’ve been standing here so bloody long I can barely feel my feet.’
The driver chuckled. ‘Captain Maddox must be well and truly brassed off with you.’
‘I’ll say,’ said Jim. ‘Punishment for the lost clip, I bet. I’ve a good mind to tell him to go marry a goat.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ snorted the driver. ‘Say, you got a light?’
‘If you’ve got a smoke,’ Jim said.
The driver turned off the engine and climbed out. As the two men rolled their cigarettes and chatted, Alf pointed at the truck, his eyes shining. ‘Psst,’ he said. ‘Why crawl through a ditch when you can drive?’
Charlie followed Alf’s finger to the canvas-covered truck, where he made out a narrow step at the back just big enough for two would-be rescuers to balance on. His heart sped up – what better way for a couple of heroes to break into an internment camp than by hitching a ride with one of the guards? Biggles couldn’t have planned it any better.
He nodded to Alf and they rose slowly and made their way to the rear of the truck, keeping well out of sight of the two soldiers. Alf hoisted himself onto the ledge, but as Charlie scrambled up his right foot slipped and he landed on the ground with a thump.
The truck driver stopped in the middle of a sentence. ‘Did you hear something?’ he said.
Charlie froze.
‘Must be bats,’ said Jim. ‘Little buggers have been flapping around and screeching at me all night.’
The two men went back to talking about Doris, one of the barmaids at the Grand Hotel, and Charlie ever-so-carefully shimmied up next to Alf and held on, pleased that the truck was full of wooden boxes rather than troops. The driver climbed back into the cabin and started the engine, while Jim opened the gate to let the truck through. He swung it shut behind them without even a glance at the back of the vehicle.
They were in. Now there was just the small matter of getting out again.
The truck crawled into Yokohama and slowed down to inch around a tight corner. ‘Now!’ hissed Charlie.
They jumped off the ledge. Alf landed with a quiet thud, but Charlie lost his footing on a patch of loose gravel and stumbled. He stifled a yelp as his knees smashed into the ground and skidded along the dirt road.
‘You right?’ whispered Alf.
Charlie slowly picked himself up. He leaned down to brush the dirt off his knees and found that they were both sticky with blood. Tears welled up in his eyes. What the hell were they doing? They weren’t really soldiers.
‘Let’s go back,’ he said.
‘Bugger that,’ said Alf. ‘You’re the one who talked me into this, remember?’
‘But we’ll never make it out of here!’
‘Then let’s never make it out of here together,’ said Alf.
Charlie rubbed his knee gingerly. ‘All right,’ he said, glad that it was too dark for Alf to see him blinking away tears. ‘This way.’
The lights were still on in a large building with a wide verandah, and Charlie caught the faint sound of laughter from behind its closed doors. But the rest of Yokohama was dark and silent. They crept past the deserted billiard hall and a row of tin shanties to the house Masa had once shared with Mr U. It was empty now, its doors and windows wide open and the pair of chairs in the front room left for the spiders and skinks.
Next door stood Uncle Jiro and Auntie Reiko’s house – a small, corrugated iron building with neat vines growing up one wall.
‘How do we get in?’ whispered Charlie.
Alf stared at him. ‘This was your idea, remember? But if it was up to me, I’d say maybe the door.’
Charlie crept up to the closed front door with Alf right behind him. A dim line of light seeped through the crack under the door. Charlie placed one ear on the wood and listened, but there was complete silence on the other side. He gave the door a gentle nudge. It swung halfway open without so much as a creak – Charlie bet that Auntie Reiko made sure Masa kept it well oiled. He paused for a moment, then pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside.
That’s where he came face-to-face with Uncle Jiro.
Masa’s uncle sprawled in a faded armchair, cradling an empty glass bottle, as a gas lamp burnt dimly on the floor beside him. Jiro was staring at the two boys, his eyes narrowed. Charlie cursed silently, and Alf gulped like a frog choking on a Christmas beetle. Even if Uncle Jiro didn’t hand them over to the soldiers, there was no way he was going to let them just walk off with his nephew, the family’s personal slave.
Uncle Jiro opened his mouth, and out came a noise somewhere between a motorboat engine and a lion’s roar. Charlie almost giggled with relief. Uncle Jiro hadn’t seen them – he had passed out cold in the armchair, eyes half-open, and was snoring his head off.
The Fighting Stingrays rescue squad slipped off their shoes and padded across the wooden floor, past the slumbering Uncle Jiro. There was a little shrine mounted on one wall, with a tiny rectangular photograph of Mr U hanging above it. Charlie suddenly felt sorry for Uncle Jiro and Auntie Reiko – they might be horrible to Masa a lot of the time, but they obviously missed Mr U as much as anyone.
The first doorway Charlie peeked through led to a small kitchen, but the other one opened into the bedroom. Through the gloom, Charlie could make out Auntie Reiko and Kiyoko sleeping on thin mattresses. Poor
old Masa was lying on the hard floorboards against the far wall.
Charlie slunk past Auntie Reiko, lifting his feet so slowly that he almost lost his balance. Alf started to follow, but stepped on a loose floorboard that groaned loudly. Charlie halted, one foot in the air, as Reiko shifted slightly.
The room was suffocatingly hot, and Charlie was afraid he might start dripping sweat onto Masa’s aunt. But he stayed rigid until Auntie Reiko’s breathing returned to normal then signalled to Alf to stay where he was. He tiptoed past Kiyoko and knelt down next to Masa, who was breathing steadily. Covering Masa’s mouth with one hand, Charlie poked his sleeping friend in the ribs. Masa’s eyes snapped open and he gave a muffled squawk. Placing his mouth next to Masa’s ear, Charlie whispered, ‘It’s me and Alf. We’re getting you out of here.’
Masa relaxed and nodded. He rose silently, slipped on his shirt and plucked Judy out of the old tea chest in the corner. They edged back past Reiko and Kiyoko and had just joined Alf in the doorway when a voice cut through the darkness behind them.
‘What are you doing?’
Charlie stopped dead. It was Cousin Kiyoko.
‘What are you doing?’ said Kiyoko again.
Charlie spun around, racking his brain for a way to explain this. But then Kiyoko went on. ‘Prince Reginald, I can’t possibly marry you unless you give me a solid gold ring.’ She rolled over on her sleeping mat. ‘And a silk kimono and a crown made out of diamonds.’
‘She does that every night,’ whispered Masa, holding Judy tight to his chest. ‘Even when she talks in her sleep, she’s annoying.’
Charlie’s legs wobbled as they slunk out of the bedroom and past Uncle Jiro, who was still rumbling away like a German tank. Charlie had one hand on the front door when Masa whispered, ‘Wait!’ and stole across the room to the little shrine on the far wall. He pulled the photograph of Mr U down and tucked it into his front pocket. Then he nodded at Charlie, who yanked open the door.
As they reached the middle of the street, Alf turned to the other two, his teeth shining in the darkness. ‘This is bonzer,’ he said. ‘Just like a film.’
Charlie smiled, his palms sweating. ‘To the Canyon,’ he said.
A thin moon peeked through the clouds as they darted into the road running parallel to the shore. They were halfway down it when two tall figures rounded the corner and sauntered towards the Fighting Stingrays, rifles glinting in the dim moonlight.
There was no time to run. But a few feet away, next to one of the shanty-like houses, was a rickety wire chicken coop with a handful of boards nailed across to form a roof.
‘Quick!’ Charlie hissed. ‘In there.’
They clambered into the wire coop and crawled as far under the makeshift roof as possible. The wooden boards were so low that none of them could sit up straight, and they quickly discovered they were sharing the cramped space with half-a-dozen hens, all ruffling their feathers angrily at having their sleep disturbed.
The Fighting Stingrays trembled as the soldiers’ heavy footsteps drew closer and stopped directly in front of the chicken coop.
Charlie’s stomach did a somersault – the soldiers must have spotted them crawling into the chicken coop.
But then one of the men cleared his throat and spat on the ground. ‘Where are they taking these Japs, anyway?’ he said in a gruff voice.
‘A long way south, Sergeant Livingston,’ said the other soldier, whose nasal, slightly posh voice Charlie recognised as belonging to Captain Maddox. ‘And they can rot behind the barbed wire there for all I care.’
Maddox said this last bit louder than he needed to, no doubt hoping to wake up a few Yokohama residents sleeping in their houses for the last time.
Sergeant Livingston snorted loudly, and Masa shifted in the darkness – a fluffy white hen had settled on his foot, and was now clucking softly. Masa stared at Charlie helplessly, not daring to move.
Charlie heard a match being struck, and a moment later he noticed the scent of tobacco mingling with the smell of chicken poo – if these soldiers spent as much time fighting as they did smoking, the war would probably be over by now. Charlie pressed his eye against the narrow gap between two boards and saw Captain Maddox finish lighting his pipe before tossing the match over his shoulder.
‘Anything nice in these houses, sir?’ said Sergeant Livingston.
‘Not a lot,’ said Maddox. ‘These grubby savages don’t have much of value. Except for the odd pearl, mind you.’
‘I thought they had to hand over any pearls they found.’
Captain Maddox exhaled a big cloud of smoke. ‘Of course they do,’ he said. ‘But that doesn’t stop the greedy buggers from swallowing a few on the sly.’
‘Swallowing pearls?’ Sergeant Livingston grunted. ‘But how do they get ’em back?’
Maddox puffed on his pipe. ‘Come now, Sergeant Livingston, you’re a smart fellow. I’m sure you can work it out.’
Sergeant Livingston was silent for a moment. ‘You mean . . . they wait for ’em to come out of their clackers?’
‘Correct,’ said Maddox.
‘Strewth,’ chuckled Sergeant Livingston. ‘I’ll think twice before buying a string of pearls for a girl now.’
Suddenly, the hen perched on Masa’s foot leapt off and scuttled away with a squawk – Judy had crawled out from Masa’s shirt and streaked down his arm to make friends with the chook. Masa made a grab for Judy but missed, right as the other chickens noticed the furry intruder and began clucking wildly.
Sergeant Livingston stopped halfway through a puff of his cigarette. ‘What’s all that racket?’ he said, cocking his head to the side.
Captain Maddox snorted. ‘Haven’t you ever heard a chicken before, Sergeant Livingston? Goodness me, what do they teach in infantry training these days?’
Masa tried to snatch Judy as she raced past, but the rat was enjoying the game too much to stop now. She darted from one side of the coop to the other, chasing one chook and then another as the lot of them hooted and squawked.
Sergeant Livingston swung towards the coop. ‘Something funny’s going on,’ he muttered.
As the sergeant’s heavy footsteps clumped closer to the Fighting Stingrays’ hiding spot, Masa finally grabbed Judy’s tail and stuffed her back in his shirt. The chickens stopped their mad dash and gathered at the far end of the coop, clucking suspiciously.
‘There, there, girls, it’s all right,’ said Sergeant Livingston. A thick, hair-covered arm dropped into the coop only inches in front of Charlie and stroked the chickens’ feathers.
Charlie’s heart was pounding like a marching drum – surely the sergeant was going to hear it. But Sergeant Livingston was far too captivated by the hens to notice the three boys squeezed under the makeshift roof only a few feet away. Incredibly, Livingston’s clumsy patting calmed the chooks down, and soon they were making gentle book-book noises again.
‘How lovely,’ scoffed Captain Maddox. ‘Sergeant, when you’ve quite finished playing poultry farmer, then perhaps we could get back to work? We are at war, you know.’
Sergeant Livingston’s meaty arm disappeared from view. ‘Course, sir,’ he said.
The two men clomped down the street, and Charlie let out a huge breath.
‘Crikey,’ said Alf, ‘I thought we were done for.’
Charlie counted to a hundred, then shooed the chickens out of the way and clambered over the side of the coop. ‘It’s time we got out of here,’ he whispered.
The Fighting Stingrays raced down the road to the point where the barbed wire fence crossed the Canyon. The channel was well clogged with weeds and bits of rubbish, but it looked like there was just enough space for them to wriggle under the wire without getting snagged.
Masa went first, dropping to his hands and knees and nudging Judy under the fence in front of him. He pressed himself flat as he forged through the prickly weeds and slithered underneath the wire like an eel. His backside only missed the barbs by half an inch, but he reached the ot
her side and leapt to his feet to give them the thumbs up.
‘You next, Alf,’ Charlie said.
Alf opened his mouth to protest.
‘No time to argue,’ said Charlie.
Alf’s broad shoulders made it hard for him to squeeze beneath the wire, so he twisted around and wormed under on his back. But he made it through without a scratch, pulling himself up to join Masa and Judy.
Charlie threw himself into the Canyon on his stomach. He was the skinniest of the three, so crawling through the low gap under the fence should have been easy. But halfway through, his foot caught on a thin root. He wrenched it free, and that was all it took – there was a soft tearing sound as his shorts snagged on the barbed wire. Charlie squirmed desperately, but his pants didn’t budge – he was completely stuck.
That’s when a voice sprung out of the darkness behind him. ‘Raise the alarm!’ the soldier yelled. ‘Someone’s trying to escape!’
The soldier who had spotted him was about fifty yards away. ‘Stop right there,’ he called. ‘Or I’ll bloody shoot you!’
The man’s footsteps pounded towards the Fighting Stingrays. Charlie wriggled like a dying worm, but the seat of his shorts stayed firmly hooked on the barbed wire. Alf and Masa stared back at him, fear in their eyes.
‘Masa, run!’ said Charlie.
‘But –’ said Masa.
‘Just go,’ ordered Charlie.
Masa took off, sprinting into the darkness like he was being chased by a swarm of wasps.
A whistle blew and voices erupted all over Yokohama. ‘It’s a breakout!’ yelled one. ‘Spotlights on! Ready the machine guns!’
Alf raced forwards and grabbed Charlie’s arms, tugging them desperately as Charlie struggled to extract himself from the wire. But the barb just worked its way deeper into the fabric. Fifty yards to their left, a big spotlight lit up the sky and began swivelling in their direction. To their right, the soldier was only about twenty yards away. ‘Stop, or I’ll shoot,’ he called again.
Alf grunted. Bracing his feet in the dirt, he pulled so hard that Charlie felt like his arms were being torn off his shoulders. But then Charlie’s pants ripped, and a searing pain shot across his backside as he came free of the barbed wire. He scrambled out of the Canyon as a shot rang out and a bullet thudded into the ditch behind him. Alf hauled Charlie to his feet and the two of them pelted towards the beach.
The Fighting Stingrays Page 4